


Homecoming

by CelestialSilences



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Brief hyung kink, Canon Compliant, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Makeouts, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Submissive Bang Chan, as that's the premise it was created under, but no one else shows up so, minchan rise, this is technically poly ot8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialSilences/pseuds/CelestialSilences
Summary: Chan comes home after a very long, lonely day of work. Minho makes it better.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Mentioned Poly OT8
Comments: 3
Kudos: 156





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> With love to Nico, who betaed this and lets me rant about poly skz in their dms,,,,, you're the best <3

It’s earlier than normal when Chan comes back to the dorm for the evening, having been swayed by the promise of Felix making cookies and Jisung bringing home bibimbap. Evening sunlight is filtering in through the windows for once, a pleasant change from the total darkness Chan normally comes home to. Not all of his members are home yet -it’s far too quiet for all eight of them to be together- and that in and of itself is an alien feeling; he finds himself missing the delightful chaos as soon as he steps inside. 

“Welcome home,” Minho shouts from what sounds like Chan’s bedroom when he shuts the door behind him.    
  
“Hey babe,” Chan replies as he toes off his shoes and sets them on the near-overflowing rack up against the wall. No one else calls out to him, so Chan eagerly makes his way to his room to find his boyfriend. When he pushes his bedroom door open and steps inside, he finds Minho collapsed on his bunk bed, legs folded in a half-lotus and back pressed against one of the bed poles. He looks soft, cozy in a way that makes Chan’s heart swell with adoration.    
  
Upon catching sight of Chan Minho straightens, shifting himself towards the edge of the bed in silent askance for cuddles. Chan, who wouldn’t pass up a chance for physical contact with one of his boyfriends on his deathbed, practically skips over to collapse onto the bed next to him. The heat of Minho’s body is addictive after a day without touch, and Chan sinks into the feeling easily, going boneless against his side in mere seconds. They don’t talk, Minho typing away on his phone and Chan taking a moment to simply breathe after the nonstop rush of his day. Words are unnecessary when Minho’s body is so warm and comfortable and Chan is so pliant in his exhaustion he could drift off to sleep right then and there.    
  
As if sensing some sign from the universe, Minho shifts, pocketing his phone almost absently and sitting up slightly, inadvertently shaking Chan off of him. Chan misses his presence already, but before he can open his mouth to complain he finds himself being straddled, pinned in place between Minho’s thighs. Chan’s hands find his hips on instinct, grip gentle and steadying, and his boyfriend takes the opportunity to lean in even closer until their noses are almost brushing and all Chan can see or think or feel is  _ Minho Minho Minho.  _   
  
“Hey, baby,” Minho says innocently, like he doesn’t look two about seconds away from eating Chan alive. “How was your day?”   
  
“Good,” he manages, trying not to lose himself in the bottomless depths of Minho’s gaze already. “Missed you.” He’d spent the whole day without any of his boyfriends near him, bouncing back and forth between corporate meetings and individual practice sessions, and the ache of loneliness, though rapidly dissipating, is still freshly piercing the space between his lungs.    


“Aww,” Minho pouts at him, eyes warm and soft like molten chocolate. Leaning forward slightly, he presses a gentle kiss to Chan’s nose and deftly undoes the button of his jeans with a  _ pop.  _ Heat instantly pools in Chan’s stomach at the sound, and his hold on Minho’s hips tightens fractionally. “Want me to make it better?”   
  
Minho asks the question with perfect nonchalance, as if he’s offering to buy Chan convenience store snacks instead of what’s clearly about to come next. Chan nods so quickly it’s almost embarrassing. He’d been hoping for this since he’s woken up this morning and realized he’d be alone all day, and Minho knows full well how needy he gets when he’s forced to go without physical contact for any stretch of time.    
  
“Words, please,” Minho reminds, looking to be on the verge of laughter. Chan almost wishes he would- his boyfriend’s laugh is one of his favorite sounds in the word, melodious and caramel-sweet, and Chan never minds being the cause of it because the reward is so dizzyingly beautiful.    
  
“Yes,” Chan breathes shakily, practically vibrating in expectation. “Please.”   
  
The smile Minho gives him is nothing short of radiant as he sets about tugging down Chan’s pants just enough to let his cock spring free, already half-hard in anticipation. His boyfriend wastes no time in stroking him to full hardness, one hand gliding over his shaft and the other thumbing gently over the head of his dick. Minho’s hands are pleasantly cool and soft, and Chan shivers as a jolt of electricity arcs down his spine.    
  
“So what did you do today?” Minho asks. “None of us have gotten to see you since this morning.” He sounds almost offended, as if Chan wouldn’t spend every second of his days with his boyfriends if he was allowed to.    
  
Despite the fact that Chan already feels incapable of any sort of rational thought, they’ve played this game before, and he’s intimately familiar with the rules. Silence isn’t an option. Summoning up all of his willpower, he opens his mouth to answer.    
  
“A lot of meetings,” he says, voice already embarrassingly unsteady.    
  
“Poor thing,” Minho croons in sympathy as he increases his pace. Chan lets out a startled gasp at the increase in friction. You must be so tired.”    
  
“Not really, it’s oka-“ his voice cracks over a moan as Minho thumbs his slit while simultaneously twisting his wrist sharply on a downstroke, and he bucks his hips so harshly his pelvis brushes up against Minho’s.   
  
“You got a break for lunch at least, right? What did you have?” his boyfriend continues as if nothing happened.    
  
All Chan can do is moan, lost in the bliss of Minho’s skillful touch. He has no idea what he did today and frankly doesn’t care so long as his boyfriend keeps touching him like he’s the most important thing in the world.    
  
Suddenly the friction stops, Minho’s hands pausing in their movements, and Chan lets out a high whine before he can stop himself.    
  
“Come on, baby,” Minho coos in pitying amusement. “You know you’ve gotta keep talking if you want me to touch you.”    
  
“I-“  _ I can’t, _ Chan wants to say, because how on earth is he supposed to think about anything that isn’t Minho’s soft hands wrapped around his cock?    
  
Minho, seeming to sense his distress, ghosts his hands along Chan’s shaft, the contact so feather-light it only serves to make him ache all the more. “You can do it, love,” he whispers, the grin on his lips making it clear he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Just tell me what you ate for lunch.”   
  
“I ate-“ Chan has no idea what he had for lunch. He remembers going to the cafeteria and eating _ something _ , but the details seem to have all flown south alongside all of the blood in his brain. The pressure on his cock increases ever so slightly, and the jolt of sensation is enough to force his brain into functioning. “Tteokbokki! I had tteokbokki.”   
  
“Good boy,” Minho purrs, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Chan’s lips. One of his hands moves to thumb harshly over his slit, and when Chan’s mouth falls open in a moan, Minho takes his lower lip between his teeth and nips at it playfully. “And what’d you do after that?”    
  
Minho is stroking him at an absolutely brutal pace now, as if he’s trying to get him to come as quickly as possible, and Chan is pretty sure that even if he was coherent enough to form words at the moment, he certainly wouldn’t be able to articulate anything other than moans. He knows he’s taking too long to answer, but he physically can’t force his vocal cords to produce any noise beyond broken whines of ecstasy.    
  
“Minho-“ Chan manages to beg as tears spring to his eyes. “Hyung,  _ please-” _   
  
“Keep talking, baby,” Minho commands mercilessly. His grip loosens almost threateningly, his pace slowing with it, and Chan very nearly sobs in desperation.    
  
“A-after that I-“  _ fuck, _ why won’t his brain just _ work? _ “I went to d-dance practice and then came ho-me.” The words were barely intelligible, slurred and stuttered through yelps and stilted moans, but Chan prays it’s enough for Minho.   
  
Blessedly his boyfriend seems willing to accept his best effort, smiling sweetly at the pleading look in Chan’s eyes as he finishes his sentence.    
  
“Thank you, Channie. You’ve been so good,” he hums, leaning in to kiss him softly, and Chan positively keens at the praise. Heat curls in his gut, rising rapidly to its boiling point, and all Chan can do is buck up into his boyfriend’s grip with each stroke and hope he understands.    
  
“Come for me, love,” Minho whispers, lips brushing Chan’s with every syllable, and suddenly Chan is coming into Minho’s hands with a high, drawn-out moan, his head falling into the crook of his boyfriend’s shoulder as he rides out his high.    
  
Minho lets go just before the overstimulation crosses the edge of pleasure to pain and examines his cum-slick fingers absently. Making pointed eye contact with a panting, barely-coherent Chan, he slips his index finger into his mouth and sucks on it as if it’s coated in the sweetest of honey. Minho makes a mesmerizing show of licking each of his fingers clean, tongue lolling out of his mouth between each digit in a way that somehow manages to be both absolutely filthy and devastatingly gorgeous all at once.    
  
When Minho finally finishes, he takes in Chan’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression, smiles saccharine-sweet, and pulls Chan into a wet, salty kiss. It’s more tongue than lips, more cum than spit, and Chan loves every second of it, loves how everything Minho does feels like fine art- and when his boyfriend touches him, he becomes a masterpiece in turn.    
  
“What about you?” Chan asks dazedly when they break apart. There’s no way Minho isn’t unaffected by what just happened, as externally unruffled as he may appear. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t reciprocate the gift he’d just been given?    
  
Instead of answering, Minho merely swings his legs off of Chan’s and climbs gracefully to his feet.    
  
“I’ll be okay,” he answers, entirely nonchalant. He stretches his arms out over his head, catlike in his laziness, before leaning in close to Chan once more.   
  
“Don’t eat too much tonight,” Minho murmurs in his ear. “You’ll be getting dessert later.”    
  
The look on Chan’s face has Minho cackling all the way down the hall.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed!! This is new territory for me so validation would be nice ^-^
> 
> And come say hi! Let's be friends <3
> 
> (I also do commissions! info is [here ](https://twitter.com/CelSilences/status/1277485845428285441) if you're interested)


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